


Love On Top

by garbage_dono



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Loud Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, that's one spicy pork cutlet bowl
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 04:19:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8696338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/garbage_dono/pseuds/garbage_dono
Summary: Yuuri is used to holding back, but Victor is determined to change that.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ~~I know the title is dumb but I love that song and it was fitting okay~~
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> I'm still working on _Custody_ I swear, but I've fallen deep into ice skater hell. Seriously, it's a problem. 
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> I didn't mean to post this on Yuri's birthday, but that's how it happened, I guess. 
> 
> ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Yuuuuuri,” Victor purrs, breath hot as his lips skim over Yuuri's jaw. “Yuuri, why don't you look at me, hm?”

Yuuri bites his lip, holding back a moan as Victor grinds down against him. The room is cool and dark, so quiet that every soft slide against the sheets sounds as loud as thunder. It only makes him more aware of every noise that escapes his throat, and Victor has gotten dangerously good at drawing them out. “I _am_ looking at you,” he counters.

Victor shakes his head, fingers dancing playfully over Yuuri's ribs and making him squirm. “No, you won't. You keep turning away.” He presses a gentle hand under Yuuri's jaw, turning his head so that there's nowhere else to look but up into those gleaming eyes, blue as ice even in this dim light. “I want you to look at me, любовь моя”

Yuuri isn't about to argue – not when Victor is moving between his legs, nudging his knees apart with that smirk that tells him he's about to do something that's going to feel so good it should be illegal.

He tries. He really does. He stares down the length of his own naked body with his bottom lip held firmly between his teeth as Victor uncaps the lube and starts to coat his fingers. Yuuri holds his gaze, meets Victor's eye as Victor reaches down between his legs and-

It's too much – he chokes on another moan that threatens to bubble up in his throat as he presses his cheek against the pillow again. Victor sighs. “Are you embarrassed?” he asks, and there's no judgment in his voice. In fact, he sounds like he's laughing.

Somehow, that just makes Yuuri's face feel even _hotter._

“Of course not,” he insists, and he forces one eye open to prove his point. Victor is smiling up at him, one finger trailing lazily over his thigh. “You're getting lube all over the sheets.”

Victor snorts and leans over him, just a forearm's length away, his hair tickling Yuuri's forehead. “Don't change the subject. Why are you embarrassed?”

“I told you I'm _not._ ”

“Well then why won't you look at me?”

And here they are again, right back where they started, and Yuuri's erection is starting to flag against his stomach. He huffs and pushes himself up on his elbows, almost knocking his head against Victor's in the process. “Nobody likes watching themself during sex.”

“Some people do,” Victor says with an easy shrug. “And besides, I wasn't asking you to look at _yourself._ I was asking you to look at _me._ ” He leans in again, pressing his lips against Yuuri's neck – to that spot that he _knows_ makes Yuuri prone to letting out all those needy little noises he tries so hard to keep inside. “You don't need to be so embarrassed of your own pleasure, Yuuri. Not with me. Are you this quiet when you're by yourself?”

“That's...that's not...”

“Not the same?” He hums against Yuuri's skin, the vibration of it making him shiver. “Is it, really? I don't mean when there are other people around. When it's just you, when you're all alone, when nobody is around to hear...” He pulls away from Yuuri's neck, drawing an undignified little mewl from him before Yuuri can catch it. Victor's lips are against his ear a second later, his voice dropped down to a low, husky whisper. “Do you really try to keep it all bottled up, even then?”

Somewhere along the line, his eyes have slipped closed again, and he doesn't even notice Victor's hand sliding down his chest until those deft fingers are wrapping around his half-hard erection. His hips push up off the mattress, searching for more, and Victor is chuckling against his jaw. “You didn't answer me.”

“I'm not a screamer,” Yuuri sighs. “If that's what you're asking.”

Victor laughs again, presses a kiss to Yuuri's jaw line and whispers, “I bet I can make you one.”

How does he _say_ things like that? Like it's just a normal thing that people _do?_

Victor must notice the shiver that runs through him, because his free hand is massaging Yuuri's shoulder, thumb pressing soothing little circles into his skin until he coaxes his eyes open again. Victor's gaze is softer now, his smirk fading into something warm and welcoming. He brings his hand up, pressing his palm against Yuuri's jaw and keeping his gaze on him.

“I don't want you to feel you have to hide from me, Yuuri,” he says, and he leans in for a kiss.

Yuuri melts into it, letting out a soft moan that gets lost in Victor's mouth. He reaches up, pulls Victor closer, bends his leg to press against Victor's bony hip and keep him there. His blood is pounding in his ears, mixing with the sound their lips lazily moving against one another and the soft slide of skin against skin and fabric. Victor's hand is still between his legs, stroking him slowly, working him up until he's hard and flushed and aching.

Breathless, Yuuri pulls away, just enough to mutter, “I'm not hiding from you.”

It's not quite a lie, but also not quite the truth, and Victor nudges him down onto the mattress and settles over him again. “Then watch me,” he purrs, with the same gleam in his eye that he gets on the ice when he's intent on pushing him to his limits. “Let me see you, Yuuri. My gorgeous Yuuri...beautiful Yuuri...”

Victor trails kisses down the length of Yuuri's chest, leaving marks on his skin to match the ones on his neck. Yuuri's breath is shallow, trembling every time he draws one in, and his skin is hot and pink despite the coolness of the room. But he keeps his eyes on Victor, watches as he slithers downward and settles between his legs again.

Victor's eyes flash up at him. “Good,” he mutters against Yuuri's stomach. “You're still watching.”

Yuuri blinks and swallows thickly. Victor has an easy smile on his face, somehow managing to look content even with Yuuri's erection tucked awkwardly between them. He leans down, presses a kiss to the inside of Yuuri's thigh, and gives his hip a soothing squeeze when it makes Yuuri yelp and shiver. “Did you just want an audience to make teasing me more fun?” Yuuri forces out.

“Teasing you?” Victor asks, looking perplexed. “What makes you think I'm teasing you? Is that how it feels?”

“N-no,” Yuuri lies. Victor is stroking him again, agonizingly slow, making his entire body feel tight and hot. “I just don't understand...why you want me to watch you so badly.”

Besides Victor's shameless exhibitionist streak, that is.

Instead of answering right away, Victor bends down to press his lips to the light patch of hair below Yuri's navel – _frustratingly_ close to where Yuuri actually needs that touch, but not quite there. “As if you don't already know,” Victor purrs, and the feeling of his breath against sensitive skin makes Yuuri bite back another groan.

“W-what?”

“Out on the ice,” Victor says, punctuating the words with another kiss to his hip bone. “I see you sneaking glances at me sometimes – after you nail a jump, or just when the music has ended.” Another kiss, this time against the stretch marks on his thigh, and Yuuri barely holds in a moan. “It's only natural to want to impress your coach, but that's not all, is it, милый мой? You want to see how I'll react when you do something unexpected. Want to see if you've managed to surprise me.” He chuckles as Yuuri squirms, and he finally settles with his lips just barely brushing the tip of Yuuri's straining cock. “Of course you do every day, but that doesn't stop you from wanting to see the look on my face when it happens.”

Yuuri finally lets out a groan and sits up to look down at him, finding Victor smiling between his legs with a hand wrapped expertly around his length. His face feels like it might combust, but he holds Victor's gaze anyway. “Why are you going on about that?” he asks.

“Because I'm the same as you,” Victor says with a shrug, and his eyes flash as he smirks. “I want to see the look on your face when I do something _unexpected_.”

The next moment, Yuuri is treated to the gloriously _obscene_ image of Victor opening his mouth and wrapping his lips around the head of cock, holding his gaze as he presses his tongue against the flushed and sensitive skin.

It's not unexpected per se – Yuuri could have seen it coming from a kilometer out, but it still rips a sound from his throat that he doesn't think he's ever made before. Out of habit, he slaps a hand over his mouth to muffle it, and Victor is pawing at his arm. “No, no, don't hold it in, Yuuri,” he insists. “I want to hear you. Let me hear how good it feels, _пожалуйста_."

Yuuri knows that one. _Please._ Like Victor is begging to hear the noises he's been trying so hard to keep inside. Like hearing him vocalize his own pleasure might be enough to get Victor off all on its own...

The thought makes Yuuri buck his hips upward, a moan rattling its way out of his chest as he pushes further into the wet heat of Victor's mouth. Victor stumbles in his slow and easy rhythm, pulling away and glancing upward as Yuuri meets his eye again. “It's good, is it?” he says with a grin. It's a statement, not a question – he already knows it's true.

Wordlessly, Yuuri nods.

“Do you want more?”

Again, he nods, but Victor stays where he is, even as Yuuri squirms underneath him, the lack of contact making his whole body throb. “Victor...”

“I know, I know. I was hoping you'd say it.” He grins up at him, running a playful finger across the length of Yuuri's stomach. “Tell me what you want, Yuuri. I'm dying to know.”

Like he doesn't know already. Yuuri groans, his hips pressing up of their own accord, looking for some kind of _friction_. “Are you really gonna make me say it?”

“Ah...I won't _make_ you do anything, Yuuri.” He hums softly, pressing soothing kisses to Yuuri's hip and starting to stroke him again, albeit agonizingly slow. “But why should you be embarrassed telling me what you want, hm? I could even help you if you like. Ease you into it.”

He leans down again, flicking his tongue against the tip of Yuuri's erection and making him yelp. “I could get you off like this...is that what you want?”

“N-no...”

Victor's eyebrows arch. “Oh.” He presses a finger against his own chin, looking almost innocently thoughtful. Like he doesn't have Yuuri's cock close enough to his mouth that Yuuri can feel his lips move as he talks. “Would you rather I use my fingers? You always seem to enjoy that.”

“I want you to _fuck me_ ,” Yuuri blurts out, and suddenly the room feels even more still than before. His face burns hot enough to overpower the throbbing in his gut, and he resists the urge to grab the nearest blanket and hide under it until the awkwardness fades. Or until time and pressure turn him into a lump of coal. Whichever comes first.

Putting it off is only going to make it worse, so Yuuri forces himself to glance down at Victor, who's gone still and silent between his legs. He finds him with his jaw hanging open, eyes wide, and – Yuuri might be imagining it between the low light and his below-average vision without his glasses – a pink tint on his cheeks. “Боже мой,” Victor breathes. “Could you...”

He gulps. Actually _gulps._ Like Yuuri has somehow made his mouth go dry.

“Could you say that again?”

Yuuri blinks, something hot and possessive coiling in his chest. It's not so different from the feeling he got the first time he made Victor come – a powerful, almost primal sense of possessiveness and pride that makes his arousal burn even hotter.

It's not as if they haven't _done_ that before, but now that Yuuri thinks back on it, it's the first time he can remember asking for it point-blank. Most times, he'd wait for Victor to offer, or get his point across through vague hand gestures or by awkwardly fumbling with Victor's limbs until he got his hands or mouth where he wanted them.

Saying it out loud – _hearing himself_ say it out loud – makes something shift. Victor would probably call it his inner _eros_ awakening even more. He's always had a flare for the poetic.

Victor isn't saying much of anything at the moment, though. Not now that he's the one that Yuuri has managed to leave speechless this time. Yuuri sees his opening as clear as day, and he reaches down to cup Victor's jaw in his hand, grabbing onto the opportunity with as much vigor as he can muster, despite how pink he's sure his face is. He waits until he has Victor's undivided attention, the man gazing up at him from between his legs like he's hanging on every word. Yuuri presses his thumb against Victor's bottom lip. “I want you to fuck me.”

Victor looks like he might just keel over and die right then and there.

After a long, quiet moment, Victor blinks and nods vigorously. "Да – _yes._ Yes, okay.”

He leans back, fumbling for the lube more clumsily than Yuuri did the first time they did this. It takes him a few seconds of pawing at the sheets in the dark to find it, and his pulse is pounding visibly in his neck, his face flushed, his erection pushing adamantly against his underwear – which he's still wearing for some reason that Yuuri can't even begin to imagine.

“Wait,” Yuuri says, and Victor pauses, lube still dribbling onto his fingers. It drips off of his hand, a drop of it falling onto the sheets with an audible _plop,_ and it's such a comical image that Yuuri can't help but laugh. He reaches out, grabbing the hem of Victor's underwear and tugging them down. “Those look uncomfortable.”

“It's nothing,” Victor insists, but he wriggles the rest of the way out of them, and before Yuuri knows it, they're flying halfway across the room. “Now...to the task at hand, hm?”

That had _better_ not have been a pun.

Yuuri doesn't have time to dwell on it; Victor is already locking their mouths together in a messy and insistent kiss, pressing Yuuri back against the fluffy pillows and groaning into his mouth as he grinds down against him. For a moment, Yuuri thinks this might be enough, thinks it might be worth it just to stay like this and rut up against each other until they've both come, but Victor's fingers are nudging up against his entrance, slick and adamant, pressing inside.

Yuuri bites his lip, quivering as he lets out a whine. “Yes, _yes,_ ” Victor says encouragingly, grinning against Yuuri's neck. “That's what I like to hear, Yuuri. Is it good?”

It is. Victor _knows_ it is. He's never feigned ignorance of how good he is in bed. But Yuuri nods anyway, as his breath shakes on its way out.

Victor has his lips pressed against the underside of Yuuri's jaw, his finger curling inside. Yuuri knows what he's looking for, and he squirms. “Deeper,” he breathes, and his face burns hot when Victor's eyes flash up to meet his again. “Just...just a bit.”

Victor laughs again, but does as he's told, kissing Yuuri's chest as he changes his angle. It's not quite there, but Yuuri moans softly anyway, pushing back against his hand and closing his eyes. “Do you still want me to fuck you?” Victor breathes against his skin.

“How many times are you going to make me say it?”

“You were the one that said it first, remember?” Victor reminds him with a peck on the tip of his nose. “If I had my way I'd listen to you say it over and over again all night long, but I'll settle for just once more.”

Yuuri sighs, smiling anyway and pushing himself up on his elbows, their noses barely touching as he does. “I want you to fuck me,” he says again.

Victor beams. “Can you say it Japanese?”

“ _Victor._ ”

“Alright, alright. Enough. I get it. Actions speak louder than words – isn't that the phrase?” He slithers downward again, running a careful hand along the length of Yuuri's thigh as he hoists it up onto his shoulder and presses a kiss to the soft, sensitive skin near his hip. “Ah, you're gorgeous like this. I'd take a picture of you all flushed and breathless if I could.”

Yuuri turns red all the way down to his chest. “You wouldn't _dare._ ”

“A mental picture then.” He winks. “ _Click._ ”

Yuuri groans, and not from pleasure. Why did he ever idolize this man?

Victor curls his fingers again, and Yuuri lets out a very _different_ kind of groan – one that rattles down deep in his chest and that makes him have to fight the urge to slap a hand over his mouth. It also – predictably – makes Victor absolutely beam up at him a moment later. “That's a new sound,” he quips.

“Sh-shut up,” Yuuri says, quivering. “Just keep going.”

“Still want me to-”

“I'm _not_ going to say it again.”

“Fair enough. As long as that's a yes.”

He kisses Yuuri's stomach, almost like an afterthought.

Yuuri is halfway through another nod when Victor gets back to work, raining kisses all over his chest and stomach and thighs as he slowly stretches him open. He can't shake the feeling of being so exposed, legs shamelessly spread and head tilted back as he lets out another shaky moan. But instead of embarrassment, there's something else coiling in the pit of his stomach – something heavy and primal.

He isn't just passively letting Victor explore wherever he pleases – he's putting himself on _display._ And it's nothing short of _exhilarating._

He presses back against Victor's fingers, biting his lip as he gives into the urge to seek out more of the hot feeling that tightens in his gut every time Victor presses against his prostate. He swears Victor is probably better at finding it by now than Yuuri is himself. His fingers curl against the sheets, digging into them, looking for something to hang onto as a drop of precome dribbles messily from the tip of his cock.

Victor leans in to lick it off with a skilled swipe of his tongue, and Yuuri shivers. “Victor...” His voice is tight, quivering as he tries and fails to catch his breath.

“I know.”

“ _Please._ ”

“I know,” he says again, chuckling as his fingers slip out easily. “So insistent.”

“It's _your_ fault,” Yuuri tells him. Victor is sitting up, reaching awkwardly over him to rummage through the night stand drawer. Yuuri's erection throbs impatiently against his thigh now that the contact is gone, and he resists the urge to reach down and stroke himself – he has more patience than that. Or he likes to think so, at least.

Victor would probably encourage it, knowing how much he loves to _watch_. He has plenty of times before, growling low in his ear for Yuuri to touch himself when his hands are busy elsewhere.

And that thought isn't helping things...

But Victor is back soon enough, ripping open an condom and moving to roll it on. Yuuri reaches out before he realizes he's moving, catching Victor's wrist. “Let me do it,” he breathes.

Victor smiles, handing the condom over to him and sitting back on his haunches expectantly. “Go right ahead,” he says. “Makes no difference to me, as long as I get to feel myself inside of you before I go mad.”

Yuuri fumbles with the condom, and Victor chuckles.

He can't pretend he doesn't enjoy the teasing – at least a little. Victor knows just how to push his buttons, how to work him up in a way he could never do himself so that when he comes, it feels like it's going to rip him apart. When he loses control like that, he doesn't have the time to think about hiding his face or silencing his moans. Maybe that's why Victor is so fond of teasing him.

It's hardly one-sided – Victor is a giving lover, sure, but even he can lose himself in his own pleasure. Slowly but surely, Yuuri has started to memorize all of those little erogenous zones that make Victor shiver and moan. Those are the times that Yuri likes best, when he manages to take Victor by surprise. There's nothing more addictive than watching Victor come, especially when he's the one responsible for it.

It makes him feel powerful, sexy, _masculine,_ in a way that he didn't think he could.

As he rolls on the condom, Victor sighs, his eyes closing lightly as he savors the feeling of Yuuri's hand. Yuuri stares up at him, takes in every detail of the redness creeping across his cheeks and the sheen of sweat gathering at his temples, and something shifts in the back of his mind. Instead of lying back and tugging Victor on top of him, Yuuri presses his hands against Victor's chest and pushes him down onto the bed.

Victor's eyes snap open as he hits the mattress with a soft, “Oof!” He blinks up at Yuuri in confusion until Yuuri crawls up and straddles him, pinning him down.

“Oh,” he breathes, and that familiar smirk spreads across his face a moment later. “Oh, you're _dangerous,_ Yuuri.”

Victor squirms underneath him, grinding up against him, and Yuuri moans quietly at the friction it offers. He stares down at Victor, pinned so nicely under his body, and as the thrill of it starts to wear off, he's left with a shy little question that pops up in the back of his mind.

Now what?

Victor is staring at him expectantly, fingers running soothingly up the length of Yuuri's arms. “Well, you have me, Yuuri,” he says. “Your move.”

His move. As much as his confidence has grown in the bedroom since he's been with Victor, that's not something he's experienced much. Suddenly he's very aware of the fact that Victor can see every inch of him from the stretch marks on his thighs and belly to his cock jutting out proudly between his legs and the flush that must be accompanying the heat radiating from his face.

“You're gorgeous,” Victor says, as if he can read his mind, and Yuuri blinks at him.

“What?”

“I said you're gorgeous.” He smiles up at Yuuri, reaching up to cup his jaw with one palm. “Can't remember the last time I met someone who could embody _eros_ so beautifully on and off the ice.”

Just what is he supposed to say to something like that? He sputters and feels his face heat up even more than before – if that's even possible – and fights the urge to look away. Of course, it's not a matter of feeling _ugly_ or _pretty._ It could never be that simple.

But Victor's reassurance helps anyway. It always seems to.

Instead of trying to stumble over a reply, Yuuri leans down to press their mouths together again. Victor goes pliant underneath him almost immediately, groaning into his mouth when Yuuri grinds down against him. Victor draws in a shaky breath when Yuuri pulls back to reach behind him and wrap his fingers around Victor's cock.

“You still want me to-”

“Yes,” Yuuri tells him.

Victor's eyes gleam with excitement as his hands rest on Yuuri's thighs. “Like this?” he asks, barely able to hold back the glee in his voice.

Yuuri laughs at that – the grin stretching across Victor's face looks like it might break it in half. “Yes.”

Who knew Victor would be so jubilant to have Yuuri ride him? He should have said something – maybe then Yuuri would have gotten up the courage to take charge like this sooner.

Victor is babbling little words of praise and encouragement – in both Russian and English – as Yuuri sits up and scoots back, carefully lining himself up. It's hardly his first time doing this, but he's never tried it from this angle before, and the first time he tries to push down onto Victor's cock it slips unceremoniously against the cleft of his ass.

He chokes in surprise, but Victor just laughs and reaches down to lend a hand. It's not exactly graceful, it but gets the job done, and Yuuri sinks down slowly, breathing carefully, taking his time, and watching Victor's face as he takes him in.

Victor's _face._

He doesn't realize at first that he's never seen it this way before – whenever they've done this, Yuuri has always been on his stomach with Victor pressing inside from behind. That's how he always wanted it, too embarrassed to let Victor see whatever ridiculous faces he made when he came. It gave him a wall, something to hide behind, but it also made it too difficult to touch, to kiss, and he always seemed to miss out on watching Victor's expression contort in pleasure.

Now, though, he can see every twitch, every tiny spasm. Victor's eyebrows furrow, his lips lightly parted and swollen, his breath coming in short little gasps as Yuuri settles against his hips. His cheeks are flushed red, sweat gathering and rolling down his temples, and he's fighting to keep his eyes open.

Staring up at him.

Suddenly it occurs to Yuuri that while he's trying to memorize every detail of Victor's face like this, Victor is doing the same to him. His hands are still resting on Yuuri's thighs like they're anchoring him there, his thumbs stroking soothingly over his skin. He's saying something – Yuuri can't quite make it out – but it gets lost in another little moan when Yuuri pulls his hips up and rocks back against him again.

Victor is never quiet, and it isn't hard to draw needy little noises out of him in bed, but that doesn't make it any less thrilling when it happens.

The moment when Victor first settles inside him, when he can feel his body stretching and thrumming with the need for more, has always been Yuuri's favorite part. Victor never rushes, always waits until Yuuri is ready, but he's been ready for what feels like an agonizingly long time, and he can't fight anymore against the urge to _move._ He gives in to it instead, sighing and rolling his hips.

It's simple to find an easy rhythm – to him, it's as natural as breathing, like his body could do it all on its own. Victor's hands have settled on his hips, and even with his eyes closed, Yuuri can feel his gaze on him, raking up and down his entire body as he moves. It makes his heart race, makes the heat in his belly and on his face burn even hotter.

It might have made him want to hide once, but now Yuuri just wants _more._ He wants Victor to see, wants to show him just how amazing it feels.

He braces his hands against Victor's shoulders, opening his eyes and meeting his gaze. The shift in angle makes Victor brush against a spot that makes his back arch and a moan to burst from his throat. “Feels good, yes?” Victor breathes.

Yuuri bites his lip as he nods, almost frantically, and Victor reaches up to drag his hands down the length of Yuuri's arms. “Tell me,” he says. “I want to hear you say it.”

He almost does, but he bites the words back at the last moment. Instead, he meets Victor's eye again and says, “You first.”

Victor's rhythm falters, just enough for Yuuri to notice. He latches onto that momentary surprise, sits up and back and presses his hands on Victor's thighs, putting himself on display. Victor's eyes darken. “Yuuri...”

“Tell me how it feels.”

Victor grins up at him. “So _filthy,_ Yuri. Where do you keep this side of you?”

Yuuri's fingers curl against Victor's thighs as he rocks his hips down against Victor's with more vigor. “Tell me,” he says again, his voice melding together with Victor's weak little moan.

Victor's hips are rising off the bed, is neck stretching back against the pillow top. Yuuri knows the signs well enough, can sense him getting closer, and the thought of making Victor come like this, riding him hard enough to make the bed squeak underneath them, makes his teeth dig into his lip hard enough to hurt.

“It's good,” Victor says, voice quaking. “Just don't stop, Yuuri.”

“How good?”

He doesn't have the focus to think about the words before he lets them out. His self-consciousness is dissolving as quickly as Victor's rhythm. Victor's fingers are digging into his hips, like he's trying to hold Yuuri there with everything he has. “Yuuri...” He sputters something in Russian that Yuuri can't make out, pieces of words getting mixed up and drowned out in another moan mixing with the squeaking of the bed springs.

Never in his life has Yuuri come without some kind of friction on his cock, but he's closer than he's ever been before. He's past words, sweat dripping down his temples and burning his eyes as he leans forward, hands pressed against Victor's chest, hips snapping back so quickly that he can't keep up with his own pace – his own rhythm is gone, his body moving on its own, desperately chasing relief.

Victor comes with a shout, and Yuuri gets a full, glorious view of him, red down to his belly with his face pressed against the damp pillows. His fingernails leave stinging tracks down Yuuri's back, his chest heaving and his hair fanning out behind him like a messy silver halo.

It's such a gorgeous image that Yuuri almost forgets how close he is, just for a moment. All he can do is stare down at him with his jaw hanging open as he rides Victor through it.

Maybe this is what Victor sees when he looks at him. It would certainly explain his eagerness get Yuuri to _look_ at him.

He's been so intent on Victor's face, that he hasn't noticed a hand pulling away from his back and snaking between their bodies, fingers wrapping insistently around his leaking cock. A noises bursts from his throat, guttural and rough, and his hips rock against Victor's grip before he can get out a single word.

Victor is smiling up at him, the picture of satisfaction. It's an easy, lazy smile, but there's still something hungry gleaming in his eyes.

“Let me see you come,” Victor murmurs, his other hand, squeezing Yuuri's thigh, and Yuuri does.

It's a hot, twsting, gut-punch of an orgasm, blazing through him and ripping a scream from his throat that he swears their neighbors must hear. He can't do anything but ride it out, eyes squeezed shut, his entire body flushed and tense, and when it finally subsides, he collapses next to Victor on the ruined sheets.

Victor is laughing by the time he opens his eyes again. “I don't think I've ever made you _scream_ before,” he chuckles.

If his face weren't already red, that would do it. “I couldn't exactly help it,” Yuuri mutters, and Victor presses a kiss to his temple, never mind the sweat.

“You should see how gorgeous you are when you come like that.” His voice is low, almost hoarse. Yuuri is sure his is the same. “I hope you know I'll never let you hide that gorgeous face of yours in the pillows again.”

After that, Yuuri doesn't think he'll ever want to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If there are any issues with the Russian, please let me know. I tried my best to make it accurate, but I'm about as far from fluent as you can possibly be.


End file.
